


Outta Sight, Outta Mind

by LoosenYourCorset



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Chicago, FOB, Other, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoosenYourCorset/pseuds/LoosenYourCorset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick gets a secret tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written because of an idea I had randomly.

It was just a joke. It had only started as a joke to mess with Patrick, but Patrick took it seriously. However, no one knew that.

One day Pete and Joe had suggested that Patrick get a tattoo. Didn't matter what of, just a tattoo on his shoulder or his leg or somewhere. No one would probably ever see it, but they weren't being serious. Patrick had let it go for awhile, laughing it off and never thinking of it again.

That was until he was in Chicago one weekend and he walked past a tattoo shop. They were offering free tattoos if it was your first one. He walked back to it and stared at the sign for about five minutes before someone told him he either had to go inside or get moving. He went inside.

The place was small and intimate, cozy and warm with a breeze coming from the open door. Patrick didn't have any idea of what he wanted. The man at the checkout desk, who was covered practically from head to toe in tattoos, tried to suggest things to him. Everything from fairies to demons to a box of cookies was thrown out to him, but he didn't want any of those things. Finally, the man said, "Just get something that's important to you. Make it meaningful."

Patrick was fond of two things for sure: hats and singing. They both were important and meaningful to him. And that's when the idea hit him.

For an hour he sat in the lobby, waiting for the tattoo artist to come out and call his name for his turn. He wouldn't allow himself to think about it; he was afraid if he started second-guessing himself that he would just get up and leave.

He figured it was too late to chicken out once he was sitting on the artist's chair.

"What do you want and where do you want it, kid?" Jake asked. That was the name on his name tag. He was a big guy with a wiry beard.

"One of those old timey microphones from the '50s, with a fedora hanging off of it. Please," Patrick stated. "On the back of my left shoulder."

That seemed like the safest place to put it.

Jake pumped the chair up and laid it back, then told Patrick to pull his shirt up and turn over onto his stomach. Patrick obeyed and then waited while the artist took five minutes to sketch something. When he was done, he held up his artwork to Patrick and Patrick nodded and smiled. It couldn't have looked any better and it was exactly what he'd asked for.

He waited another five minutes and then felt something press onto his skin, some kind of cleaning wipe. And then a stencil, he assumed.

"Brace yourself," he heard Jake mutter, and it wasn't very reassuring. But then it started and he was pretty sure he could handle it.

He was unaware that he'd have to handle it for three hours, though.

When it was done he was still biting his lip and hadn't said a word since it started unless Jake asked him something, which he almost never did.

Jake cleaned up the tattoo, wiping over it gently. He informed Patrick he could stand up again and when he did, he directed him to a mirror on the wall. He picked up a smaller, handheld mirror and walked up behind him to point it at Patrick's new ink.

Patrick looked at the reflection and beamed. It was more than he had been imagining. The shading was perfect and the lines were clear. It was all black and white with a little bit of blue thrown in for depth. In a word, it was amazing. He thanked Jake about fifty times, went out to the lobby to pay, and then left.

So, clearly, to Patrick it hadn't been just a joke. Pete and Joe and Andy didn't know that. And when he made it back to Los Angeles, he didn't speak of it or tell them what he'd gone and done. Considering it wasn't exactly part of his plan for that weekend, anyway.

They were in the studio about two weeks later, him and Pete. He'd taken good care of it to make sure it didn't get infected. It had healed up quite nicely and he had to stop himself from looking at it in the mirror too often. He had also been very good at keeping it hidden.

That was until he bent over to pick up a pen he'd dropped, and Pete had a good view to the inside of his shirt through his rolled up sleeve.

Pete couldn't really see it. But he knew he saw something. The edge or the rim of something. It could easily have been a trick of the light and he only saw it for about three seconds...but if anyone knew what a tattoo looked like it was Pete. And Pete had seen part of it. Now he had to see the whole thing.

The hard part would be getting Patrick to show it to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete finally gets to see Patrick's tattoo.

Between the first time and the second time that Pete had seen Patrick's tattoo, three weeks passed. He'd like to pretend he had forgotten about it but God knows, he definitely hadn't. It played on the back of his mind like a broken record every time he seen Patrick with a shirt on that had the sleeves rolled up, silently hoping he could see inside of it if he leaned at just the right angle.

Patrick was not particularly fond of swimming, and no matter how many times Pete asked him to go he would not budge. Pete wasn't sure if he just didn't want to go swimming or if he didn't want to reveal the tattoo. Or maybe both. Either way, getting him to say yes to that was out of the question because it would never happen.

It wasn't necessarily that it mattered to Pete (but it did), he just wanted to know what Patrick thought was so important that he got it tattooed on his body forever.

So one morning in the kitchen of Pete's house, he started to think that desperate times called for desperate measures. To Pete, this was a desperate time.

Patrick was sitting at the table, drinking coffee as Pete made pancakes for breakfast.

"Would you ever get a tattoo, Patrick?" Pete asked as innocently as he could, and Patrick looked up at his back.

"We've had this conversation," he answered, then went back to playing on his phone. The only thing Pete could think was that his answer wasn't a no, and therefore not a lie...at least not yet.

"I know. But, like, let's say you went off and got yourself tattooed. Would you tell anyone about it?" he questioned, trying to keep his voice light as he poured pancake batter into the pan.

"That depends on whether or not I felt the need to," Patrick muttered.

Damn, he was good at dodging an easy yes or no question.

"I'll make it more simple: Would you tell me?" Pete asked after a moment of silence, which was followed by another moment of silence as Patrick thought about it.

"Of course I would."

And Pete huffed after that, frowning at the sizzling pan like it was the pancake's fault. He didn't say anything, though. Maybe Patrick was going to tell him now.  
He didn't. Pete kept waiting all through breakfast and Patrick didn't utter a word about his tattoo. He dejectedly washed the dishes and then had a brilliant idea.

"You should spend the night," he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the kitchen counter.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. He hadn't spent the night at Pete's in a long time. "I don't have any clothes."

"You can borrow some of mine."

"Alright, then. Sure."

With that, Patrick was off to go be secretive in the living room.

Pete waited a little bit longer. Patrick might tell him at some point and he didn't want to push it... But that didn't mean he couldn't think about it even if all it did was make him crazy. What was it? What color was it? How big or how small was it? Where did he get it done? Why did he do it? By the time he figured it out, Pete was pretty sure he would be able to write an entire essay on it. He just had to fucking see it first.

Four hours and two grilled cheeses for lunch split between the two of them later, Pete sat next to Patrick on the couch. He was starting to wonder if Patrick knew that he knew and was purposely not telling him just to drive him nuts. Patrick looked innocent enough, sitting cross-legged and reading some book, and it made Pete wonder what other kind of things Patrick did that he didn't tell anyone about.

Awhile later, Patrick left Pete alone to his many thoughts and said goodnight. Pete went to his own room and laid there.

And laid there.

And laid there some more.

It was extra dark outside when he finally rose out of bed. It was a dark walk to the guest room in which Patrick stayed, too. He knocked on the door and only heard unintelligible grumbling coming from the other side, which he took as a 'come in.'

Patrick was half asleep and had left the curtain open, letting the moonlight pour into the room. Pete could see that he'd probably only just gone to bed like half an hour ago, but that wasn't going to stop him from waking Patrick up. He walked to the side of the bed and nudged it with his knee, but the strawberry blonde was a deep sleeper and it was going to take more than that to pull him back to reality.

Pete climbed onto the mattress and pulled the covers back to straddle Patrick's stomach, unaware of personal space, then shook his shoulders.

That got better results as Patrick moved, grumbled some more, and opened his eyes. It took him a moment after doing so to realize he wasn't having a very vivid dream and that Pete actually was on top of him.

"What do you think you're doing? And don't say 'sitting on you,'" he said, voice groggy and thick from sleepiness.

"I couldn't sleep," Pete answered simply.

Patrick stared up at him in annoyance. "Unbelievable."

Pete laughed. "I'll tell you what's unbelievable. What's unbelievable is that you were gone for three days a few weeks ago and then you came back with a tattoo and decided not to tell anyone. Not even your best friend! That is unbelievable."

"How did you ev-"

"I've seen it. Part of it. Just tell me you got one," Pete whispered.

And Patrick said, "I got one."

Pete let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and released his grip on Patrick's shoulders. "Finally! Thank you. Now can I see it?" he asked, and Patrick was quiet for a moment before he nodded.

He pushed Pete off of him gently, sat up onto his knees and turned so that the other could see his back, then took his shirt off. Now it was his turn to wait for a response as Pete silently stared at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I'm going with this but I guess if you guys keep liking it, I'll keep writing it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of that night plus the next morning.

Patrick spent the better part of an hour that night answering questions about his tattoo adventure in Chicago. It had turned into a Q&A period between himself and Pete, and it would have taken up less of their time if he could quit yawning. Pete's words about the tattoo had been nothing short of repetitive: "Wow. Dude, that's like...wow. Amazing. I love it. I mean, it's totally not something I ever would've pictured you getting but wow."

After two more wows and a press of Patrick's finger to Pete's lips, Pete moved on to asking stuff that Patrick would have been happy to answer at a later time. Like after some sleep. However, Pete wouldn't be able to sleep until he asked Patrick every possible question he could think of. Patrick tried to give in depth details but there was only so much to the story.

"Pete, I'm telling you right now that it was a spur of the moment kinda thing. I didn't think about getting one before I went in, and had I not seen that first-for-free sign I probably wouldn't have gotten one at all," Patrick said, covering his mouth to yawn yet again. "In fact, this tattoo is not something I've ever thought about. I literally came up with it on the spot."

Pete just shook his head and shuffled around to Patrick's back once more - he refused to let him lay down for fear of him falling asleep - to take a second (or fiftieth) look at the inked-up skin. "It's such a contrast..." he muttered, and he brought a finger up to trace the lines of it absentmindedly.

In the few weeks that Patrick had it, it still looked new. There was no noticeable fading and it had stopped hurting to sleep on it a while ago. But it was even newer to an astonished Pete, who couldn't stop staring at it even if he wanted to. Which he didn't.

"Colors would look so good on you, Patrick. Like blue, more blue than what's already in this tattoo, and reds. Especially reds," Pete commented. He finally quit messing with it, maneuvering himself back to sitting in front of Patrick with a big grin plastered on his face. "We should totally get matching ones."

"No, we should totally not get matching ones," Patrick countered, pulling his shirt back on over his head. "This was a one time thing for me."

Pete made a little noise in his throat that reminded Patrick of a dog whining for a treat. As unyielding as he was on the subject of getting another one, he knew that if he let himself be swayed by Pete's big brown eyes he would never say no; That was another way that Pete reminded Patrick of a dog.

Within the next few minutes Patrick had laid down again, Pete moving to get under the covers next to him. The added warmth was something Patrick enjoyed on nights when he left the window open, and he didn't try to push Pete out of the bed. There was no harm in him staying just so long as he kept the cuddling PG-13.

They slept soundly for the rest of the night until the sun came up, shining through the window and hitting Patrick's eyelids directly. It was Patrick who whined this time, shaking Pete awake. "Curtains," he mumbled sleepily.

Pete, easily awoken at the slightest of things, probably due to having a child, got up and padded over to the window. He closed it and shut the curtains tight, then rejoined Patrick in the bed. For the next few hours they slept some more until it actually was time to get up.

Noon wasn't the time most people wake up in the mornings but for Patrick it was normal. On the other hand it was not normal for Pete to wake up so late, and Patrick turned over to find Pete staring at him. That was another thing that was, for some reason, normal for Patrick.

"Why," he groaned rhetorically, like it bothered him at all to wake up to Pete's invading face. It didn't.

"I couldn't sleep anymore but I didn't want to get up 'cause I'm so comfortable. I thought I'd just lay here for a while."

Patrick yawned and brought a hand up to wipe the sleep out of his eyes, licking his lips and taking his sweet time to wake up fully. He kind of wished he was still asleep.

"Are we going to keep it a secret?" Pete asked after a moment of watching Patrick's actions.

In the time they'd been unconscious, Patrick's mind had nearly reset. "Keep what a secret?"

"Your tattoo."

"Oh," Patrick said simply. "Yeah. I probably would have told you eventually even though you forced it out of me, but as far as everyone else goes...let's just keep it between you and me."

Pete smiled and nodded his head, because for a person as open and honest as he was he didn't have many secrets of his own to keep. He could keep Patrick's, though. He knew a lot of secrets about Patrick that he'd kept to himself for a long time, which for him was a big deal. It made him feel all warm inside to think that Patrick trusted him that much.

"Years of proven loyalty, Pete. That's the only reason you know everything about me," Patrick said, and Pete blinked. Pete thought that it was almost like Patrick could read his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be much appreciated. This could probably end here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys voted but it was a tie, so I had to do the tie-breaking myself. I went with the music video idea because...just because.
> 
> I'm not sure if this was an "epic" way for Joe & Andy to find out, but I think it works! I still have no idea how long I'm gonna keep this thing going, though. And as usual I look forward to your feedback (◠‿◠✿)

It's not like Patrick hadn't seen this coming, another music video. He'd actually been excited to shoot the next part of the Young Blood Chronicles. What he had forgotten about were all the costume changes that had to take place. Fake blood gets thrown around, substances spill, clothes have to be thrown out and replaced. Getting his tattoo, he hadn't kept that in mind. He usually didn't have many thoughts running around in his head while acting on impulse and in the heat of the moment, he hadn't remembered that at some point he would be shirtless and definitely not alone.

He was sitting in his dressing room, fully dressed, going over the script in his head. It wasn't so much a script as it was a list of things that were going to happen and how they were going to play out. If he could avoid changing his top for the entire day, he would be alright. He just didn't think that was going to be possible.

Patrick was still thinking about how best to go about not taking off his clothes when Joe came in and interrupted his thoughts, telling him that they'd been called to the set.

Two hours went by and so far, so good. The only thing bothering him were the contacts in his eyes, but they weren't really spoiling his mood enough to make him grumpy. And he still had his shirt on. So things weren't going so bad.

That was until a set director bumped into him holding a can of opened paint. Black paint. Paint that most definitely would not come out of his shirt. It touched his hands and he had to wonder if he would even be able to wash it off.

From the side of the room he could hear one of the costume people groan, but they had it covered. In the very beginning they'd shown him about sixty maroon cardigans they'd bought in the event that anything happened to them that wasn't able to be undone. This, Patrick realized, would be his downfall.

Internally he was worried, but on the outside his face was just a mask of "Please get this paint off of me." And they did.

Pete hadn't really been paying attention to the whole ordeal, Patrick wasn't even sure if he was in the room, but when he saw what had happened he didn't know what to do. Patrick mouthed the word 'help', but by that point he was being peeled of his leather jacket and cardigan.

The paint had already seeped through to the shirt he wore under it, so he knew he was definitely doomed.

This was when he started to think about how bad it would actually be if people saw his tattoo. What difference would it make? It was just a tattoo, right? Right.

Wrong.

When the woman helping him take off his last shirt finally got it off of his body, she just stared. Patrick couldn't even hide his face because of the paint on his hands and he was starting to contemplate just running away. As the costume lady walked away she continued to stare, like the tattoo would move or distort if she didn't look directly at it.

"Did you teach his back to do tricks or something?" Andy asked as he walked onto the set. He'd been gone a few minutes, personal phone call, but was back as quickly as possible and Patrick just rolled his eyes.

"No, no tricks..." Pete answered regardless of whether or not the question was rhetorical; The silence was deafening.

"Well fuck," Joe's voice came from behind Patrick's body and he sighed, not having heard him sneak up. This had to end quickly before he self-destructed. "That is a fucking tattoo."  
"No it's not!" Andy argued, rushing over to stand next to Joe and see for himself.

Patrick was kind of wishing they'd take a look at it and then it let it go, but he knew he wasn't that lucky.

First Joe had to touch it, and then Andy had to touch it. Then Pete joined them and touched it...again, because why not?

"It's so cool. Does it hurt when I do this?" Andy said, thumping over the area of Patrick's tattoo.

"Well, yeah, Andy, that does hurt. But that would hurt anybody when you do it that roughly," Patrick muttered.

"I could make a very dirty joke about being rough right now, but I won't," Andy said.

"Thanks for being so kind and generous," Joe mocked, making a face, and Andy pinched him.

"Guys, I'm half naked right now. People are staring and it's cold in here. I would also like to get this paint off of me, so if you two could, like, finish this up..." Patrick spoke up in annoyance.

Andy and Joe sobered up momentarily to ask him almost all the same questions Pete had asked him before, and now he just thought maybe he should have shown it to them all at the same time so he wouldn't have had to go through this more than once.

It took them half an hour to accept his story the way it actually happened. They wanted to believe that something amazing or insane had happened, but to them just walking in and getting a tattoo randomly was no big deal. They'd done it before.

Patrick was thankful when the director came and hurried them up, and he was even more thankful that the director made absolutely no fuss over the ink on his skin. He just wanted a clean, dressed Patrick so that they continue with the shoot. Patrick couldn't agree more and he was off to go do as instructed.

Still talking about it amongst themselves, Pete and Joe and Andy all took their places on set and waited for Patrick to return. When he did they were nothing but smiles until the camera started rolling, and even Patrick had to grin a little bit. Maybe them knowing wasn't so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is finished.


End file.
